


Love and Atonement

by silasfinch



Series: Movie Ships Collection [2]
Category: Loving Annabelle (2006)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Personal Growth, Post-Canon, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22503115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silasfinch/pseuds/silasfinch
Summary: Both Simone and Annabelle need to heal as individuals before reuniting.That process over the cause of the seasons and life moments.Poetry, letters, Walt Whitman, Forgiveness and love.Part II: Dinner Date
Relationships: Simone Bradley/Annabelle Tillman
Series: Movie Ships Collection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604305
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I adore this movie and wanted to write a post cannon years ago.  
> I'm still dyslexic so please be gentle with feedback.

_Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom."_

_― Marcel Proust_

Simone Bradley is guilty of many things but not the crimes she is facing. 

I know exactly how the trial would play out almost before the opening statement. Simone refuses to mount a defence of any kind, preferring to plead guilty and agree with all the prosecutor's charges. If it wasn't a legal requirement to have some representation, I doubt she would do everything alone. Her teaching licence is the first thing to go, and there are harsh words from the school distinct, even though this institution isn't part of the public system. There are too many stories of teachers abusing their powers and violating ethics and common sense. 

Simone is feeling guilty about the death of her partner, who lost her battle with mental illness. She believes half the words of Mother Superior about the 'right way' to be a young woman. The failure of previous relationships with men is somehow her fault entirely. I think that she is still conflicted about being gay in the first place, coming from a strict religious background. Our relationship became public in such a dramatic fashion will bring up all these issues for her, turning herself into a penitent, risking jail time, seems logical. 

"Please don't let this happen, Mom. I'll do anything, the charges are ridiculous. You know the last thing I would ever be is a victim in this scenario." I plead with my only possible ally. 

My mother's attention is a fickle thing and tends to depend on where she is in the election cycle. Senator Tilman is a wildly popular and progressive politician and weathers the storm of a rebellious daughter with ease; I'm sure my troubles help her in some districts, more relatable and all that. However, she has no choice but to be attentive with the current situation dominating the news in weeks before a significant policy announcement. 

"It is unlikely that she will face any prison time with you so close to graduation and your adamant refusal to cooperate in any way, even most of your schoolmates are staying firm and away from gossip." 

"It's not enough; she did everything by the book; I was the one who pushed the boundaries." I insist pleadingly. 

"Your proclivities are irrelevant, Anabelle. There is a considerable power imbalance that no amount of unique circumstances is going to change; you aren't the first student to make such a passionate declaration or the last. There is no way for them to make exceptions without looking weak."

I spent most of my formative years arguing with my mother and disagreeing with her almost on principle. She may be the lawyer in the family, but I come from a long line of stubborn woman, even I wasted the talent for most of my teenage years. In this case, she is right, and Simone would be the first to agree. I will not be giving up the fight no matter what the odds are. 

"Please mom you can do anything to me, disinherit and disown to start but don't let these charges stand. I love her." I am openly crying now. 

"Don't be absurd Anabelle I went through 6 rounds of IVF and 29-hour labour to have you, perhaps this little drama will finally allow you to see some sense."

"Please, Mom..."

"Let me talk to your father. Neither of us can interfere directly, but there are other ways to influence thinking."

I've never more grateful to see the calculating look in Senator Tillman's eyes. 

***

**Spring**

I wait to find Simone. 

Every fibre of my being wants to chase that car down the road and plead her case. Team Tillman swoops in and whisks me away before that can happen, the days and weeks following fell into a haze of grief and despair. The only thing that keeps me from finding escape in alcohol and drugs is knowing Simone would be even more heartsick if she knew I was undoing all our progress together. I didn't want to give the tabloids any satisfaction either; they were waiting for the return of party girl Anna. 

My mother is true to her word and her intense desire to see this go away quietly, and the best legal minds from my father's practice are laying the groundwork for Simone to receive a lenient judgement. There is plenty of evidence to support the case; I was weeks off turning eighteen, Simone's spotless and dedicated teaching career, testimony from loyal students like Collins and surprisingly even Kat. Amanda family wrote letters outlining how faithfully Simone tended to their mentally ill daughter and desolation at her death.

I wait six months before returning to the beach house. 

There is some risk in turning but here but it is a small one from a legal perspective, that stupid birthday has long past, and Simone has slipped into a life of relative anonymity. Mom isn't delighted when I ask about the safety of seeing Simone, but she doesn't raise too many objections. We are growing closer, now that I am volunteering at the Tilman Charity and almost living a monk-like existence. 

_"Be prepared for heartache. Your Simone may not want to see you after such a trial and retribution."_

My mother's doubts settle in my chest after long moments. Simone stares at me from the doorway without saying a word. My first instinct is to find the nearest burger joint and force-feed her. Natural slimness morphs into an almost frailness. Casual yoga clothes look far too large. 

"What are you doing here Annabelle, seeing each other is a bad idea."

"I'm not here to make any grand declarations or promises. But I couldn't bear the idea of you tutoring yourself over the notion that you have ruined my life." I explain as I hand over a slim envelope. 

Simone looks like she is going to send me away without hearing me out, but eventually, she reaches out with trembling hands just when I am about to give up hope. 

"Oh, Annabelle, I am so proud of you." 

I worked hard to get to finish my GED away from school. There is no way practical way I can enter another school so close to examination time. My grades were never better strangely; Dad even put the results on the fridge. 

"You didn't wreck my life, Simone, you saved me from the worst of my bads. Whatever Mom told you, aunt, to bribe my place at the school is only half of it, its meeting you that makes me what to be a better person and stop living up to every cliche about children of privilege." I explain earnestly 

"You weren't a bad person in need of fixing, and I am certainly no saviour."

"That's not what..." 

"I can't do this right now, Annabelle. please give me some time." 

***

**Summer**

Simone Bradley is the audience at my gig. 

Music and songwriting are my passions, and I'm developing something of a following in the local bars even doing a tour with a reasonably famous indie band. My reputation as an infamous party girl will never leave entirely (not in the world of the internet), but I am building a solid following. The dream is to make it big and record songs, with only a few dedicated to my lost love. Millions of girls are as talented or more talented than I am, and the odds of success aren't high. I play events in the evening and on weekends during the day I am studying for my Music Therapy degree. Strangely enough, I became something of a sounding board at the school, especially for Collins. Those experiences inspired me to have a backup plan. 

"Your girl is here." the guitarist whispers between sets. 

I roll my eyes at the statement and focus on tuning my guitar. My friends love to tease me about having fangirls who follow us from venue to venue. The attention is more annoying than flattering, and I spend the downtime reading poetry and completing extra credit assignments.

"The teacher?" she clarifies urgently. 

My lookup is not daring to believe the statement, suddenly nerveless fingers barely hold onto the instrument I spent months saving for, its only muscle memory that keeps the situation from getting embarrassing. Simone is unmistakable even though she is doing her best to stay in the shadows by the door. She still looks impossibly beautiful, but I can't help frowning at the amount of weight she has lost. 

"Get through these last few songs, Tilman, not all of us can rely on trust funds if the music thing doesn't work out. 

The crowd seems to enjoy our last few songs, and we get a few calls for an encore, but the bar is almost at max capacity. Billy won't risk violations again, not for our poky part-time band. I am fighting the flashback to our last night together. I barely remember watching as the bar empties of people except for the staff. Simone makes her way up to stand before the makeshift stage. 

"You were wonderful, Annabelle, I am so proud of you." 

"I can't believe you came," I whisper struggling not to cry. 

"I wanted to say thank you for showing me your graduation certificate and acceptance letter; it means the world to me." 

"Can I take you to dinner?"

Simone shakes her almost visibly retreating as if she expects the place to appear the second I utter the words. No matter how much time passes, Simone still carries that haunted look of somebody doesn't believe in their innocence and is waiting for the correct judgement. 

"I can't, but it was a highlight of my week to hear you play again."

"I sing the body electric..." I whisper almost without conscious thought. 

Simone smiles sadly and nods, her hand straying to the silver cross at her neck. 

"You always had such a way with words, even when borrowing other peoples."

***

**Autumn**

I never lose hope, but it is a near thing. 

Simone needs the time to rebuild a life without the foundations that she came to rely on heavily in her grief. Mother Immaculata and Father Harris may be the stuff of her nightmares, but they provide a sense of sanctuary for her. Whatever the courts decide Simone will never return to the familiar comfort with her only remaining families and strongest memories of Amanda. All I want to do is comfort in the same way I did in the beach house, but she needs time to recover, independent from me and the extreme emotions we provoke in each other. 

I still collect little scraps of information about her life at the beach house. I am not the only person to admire her photography art, and she is holding a few shows around town, even getting a write in the local paper. She is also spending any free time volunteering for mental health charities and hospices. Kristien faithfully reports back anything she hears, still feeling guilty about her role in the terrible night. 

It is unfair to blame my dormmates entirely, in a school that small word was bound to spread. Anybody with a pulse could see that I was falling for my English teacher. 

When I read in the paper that her last show is on Monday night before she takes a sabbatical, I cannot resist viewing her and her work at least once. At 15 minutes before closing time, I slip in the front door and watch silently as Simone greets a steady stream of wellwishers. My heart swells with joy and pride, but I stay in the shadows not to draw attention. 

"These are wonderful." I echo her words once the crowd thins to a few gallery workers. 

"Annabelle.." Simone says simply. 

Simone Bradley looks fantastic in a blue dress that compliments her skin and slightly longer hair. There is a small silver cross at her neck that looks like the original one she always wore only bigger. Simone still has the nervous habit of playing with the piece when she is tense, and the familiarity makes me smile. 

"I couldn't let your show leave town without checking things out before you head to Italy." I offer with a shrug. 

"I will be doing others in the spring; its easy to forget how much joy a hobby can bring if you have the chance to explore and challenge yourself." 

"I feel the same way about singing and composing songs." 

We stand there are stare awkwardly at each other, neither knowing what to say. Simone raises a hand before gesturing for me to wait as she hurries to the far end of the gallery. She returns grinning as she hands me what looks like a print. 

"My turn."

The image she hands me instantly recognisable as the beach with almost identical lighting and waves to the day we spent together; in fact, it may be the same. Simone uses her paints to add more luxurious texture and colour. I can almost feel the sand between my toes. If only Simone was in the picture, but she wouldn't feel comfortable doing such a thing, not then and not now. 

***

**Winter**

I find Simone in the hospital chapel. 

Part of me feels guilty for entering such a sacred space when I didn't take religion seriously and flunked out of religious education. Surprisingly it is Father Harris who calls me pleading me to be there for Simone. He most definitely doesn't approve of the reputation I brought to his school, but he has a deep and profound affection, Simone. After the scandal, he takes some of the frailest nuns to an Abby for retreat and contemplation. 

My heart breaks when I see the solitary figure in the pews. 

Simone doesn't look up from her prayers when I slide in next to her and whisper a greeting. Those long talented fingers move along rosary beads in an endless rhythm; the clicking sounds loud in the quiet space. Mother Immaculata is in the ICU trying to recover from a massive stroke. The chances are not looking good, but this trauma centre is known for good outcomes, or so the priest tells me. 

"She isn't the evil villain you believe her to be, whatever the circumstances. I was the lax teacher who allows the occasional pizza party and Prissy the Porcupine. You never got to see the good she did for students who otherwise wouldn't get the chance." Simone insists her voice horse with pain. 

"You shouldn't go through this alone, let me stay until the doctors have more news?" I ask softly, not willing to contradict her. 

Simone shrugs stiffly but makes no move to object as I move closer. Her hands are trembling and shaking, but she keeps up the loops, even though she doesn't have strong beliefs anymore. 

"She may die believing with her whole heart and soul that the niece she is a guardian over is going to hell for unforgivable sins, on her watch. The thought torments her every day of her life. There was no fancy explanation Senator Tillman's lawyers could give to convince her." Simone whispers eventually. 

"She loves you and knew you loved her. I was at the school long enough to see that." I offer while holding back my tears. 

"It is precisely because she loves me that she will never forgive this misstep." 

I reach out and pull her into a hug. She stiffens further but eventually relaxes into me. Her breathes come in shuddering sobs, and her fingers hold the beads painfully tight. I work to extract this precious object gently before turning all my attention to her words. 

"She won't accept any of my letters or calls; if it were up to her, I doubt she would welcome my prayers. The only reason I'm here is that the law requires a next of kin." Simone whispers against my shoulder. 

"Try to hold onto hope, like all your favourite poets say, hope stands true in the storm." 

"You were paying attention in class than at least when we were discussing the great works. You'll have to tell me your favourites sometime."

I don't tell Simone that my collection of poetry and classic English literature is reasonably extensive and grows every time I pass a second-hand shop. There is comfort in the words and the depth of emotion; I didn't know that fact about ' _I sing the body electric'_ by chance. My apathy towards school did not extend to reading. One day we will have the time to learn these little details about each other without restraints on our time. 

***

"You are a gardener."

I look up in both surprise and delight. Simone is leaning against my car in the hospital parking lot. My weekly shifts volunteering on the kids' wards are a challenge at the end of the semester and exams, but I wouldn't give them up for anything. Simone has been mostly absent from my life as she settles her aunt into a private rehab facility. I feel her absence fiercely but cannot begrudge her the service to her last remaining relative. The painting she gave hangs over my bed and gives me comfort. 

"What?" I ask fighting laughter. 

"You claim to be a fan of Marcel Prust; surely you recall one of his most famous lines. Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom." Simone quotes in her familiar lilting voice made for poetry. 

I move to stand beside her trying to quell the butterflies leaping in my stomach. Simone meets me halfway and smiles affectionately at the sight of my music case. The old thing has far more sticks and patches now. The kids love adding to my strange collection. 

"What I am saying is that you make me happy. Since Amanda's death for the longest time, I didn't entertain the thought of happiness. Surviving each day with the pain was a victory more so if I could teach a few people to appreciate poetry. It was always Amanda who was desperate to escape.."

"Please don't cry..."

Simone doesn't bother to wipe at her tears, merely reaching out and holding my hand, absently playing with the collection of rings. I go still trying to process this action and not wanting to disturb the flow of conversation. It feels like a pivotal moment which like the time we first met in the school grounds.

"You are the reason my soul blooms. It has taken me a while to have the courage to realise that. Thank you for waiting for me. I was wonder if that offer to go to dinner still stands?

The only thing I can do is pull her in for a tender kiss. 


	2. Dinner Date

I still feel self-conscious about going out in public. 

Of course, such feelings aren't entirely new to me. There is a reason my ambitions stopped at teaching English at my old school for so long. The safe, predictable routine suits me after the chaos of trying to treat Amanda's illness. Over time we fell into a pattern of going out rarely, and I still treasure that sunny day in the park when my former love felt well enough to be seen in public. Nobody fought harder to get better than Amanda and her family, but sometimes the sickness is too intense and takes over everything. If circumstances were different, I can my childhood love would live a very quiet and unremarkable live together, that even my aunt wouldn't disapprove. One of my few comfort is that Amanda's conservative religious family came to peace with both her sexuality and decision to end her life. Love of their daughter eventually won out against fear. 

Loving Annabelle and being out with her in public is an entirely different experience. For one thing, she is a senator's daughter and an infamous one at that. She may not be entirely comfortable being in public, but she knows how to handle the situation. Her posture is less rigid and openly rebellious, and even her hair is a less dramatic display of highlighting. She is not trying to recreate the look of the edgy rockstar and letting talent do the talking. 

"Do I look, alright?" 

My new housemate regards me silently from the bed, his green eyes reflecting boredom and disdain. One of my colleagues found a litter of abandoned kittens in her yard, and I became a foster fail for the weakest one with weak lungs and poor odds. 

"I haven't been on anything resembling a proper date in close to 15 years, what if I mess things up and look like a fool? All my courage deserted me once she said yes to dinner." I explain examining myself in the mirror. 

Leaves glower at me and stalk away in search of a peaceful place to sleep. 

In the end, I settle for a variation on my typical outfit, jeans and a fancy shirt and my favourite jewellery. Makeup is a challenge, but I manage to look slightly less exhausted and afraid. Annabelle loves my hair, and I resist the urge to try and tame it into order. My aunt would disagree with such a display, but I am trying to embrace the freedom that my second career offers. The trial was horrific and damaged me in profound ways, but it did reinforce the fact I need to move on with my life. 

***

We have dinner at the local Asian fusion restaurant. 

Even though I technically am the once who asks her to dine with me, Annabelle insists on taking charge of the planning. It's a good thing because I do not know this neighbour well beyond work commitments and the circuit for my run and yoga classes. Annabelle keeps looking at me with such an expression of profound joy that I cannot help but smile back. It's been a long time since anybody has looked at me with such open admiration on their face. It didn't take long for Michael to become frustrated and fed up with my inability to commit. 

"This is the family restaurant of my bandmate, Erica. She promises they produce the best Ramon fusion in town, which is a lofty claim but the views are excellent," she explains her fingers twitching nervously. 

"Ii haven't eaten out in a long time so anything will beat my rather unimaginative rotation of seven meals and fair to middling wine." 

I mean the comment as a light-hearted reference to my dull routine but Annabelle looks crestfallen at the image. It takes a second to realise that she is blaming herself and the situation for my retreat from the world. She is too young to take on such responsibility, especially when the belief is misplaced. My family are all solitary by nature, and the situation with Amanda and overall unhappiness only heightens this innate tendency. 

"I was a nutritionally bland recluse long before I met you, Annabelle. The new life as an artist and tutor is forcing me out of the house and meeting new people. It still feels a little strange not discuss budgets or grading criteria, but I am learning the new language." 

Annabelle pauses to grab some seaweed snack before answering a weary expression on her face. For a second, she reminds me of the angry young former student, but the look immediately disappears when she smiles and gestures to the teapot in the centre of the table. My own experience with the media and armchair analysts was severe enough I cannot imagine what judgement Annabelle came under, especially when she was so set on protecting me from punishment, even though many of the mistakes were my own. 

"I had this crazy idea that we wouldn't talk about the past and focus on more traditional first date topics, like favourite movies or books, we'll probably run out of casual topics pretty quickly, huh?" 

"The black and white ones but yes, for a whole host of reasons I don't know if we will suceed at the notion of casual conversation. The last time I had one of those was two presidential administrations ago."

"Let's not talk about religion or politics. I got enough schooling both at the dinner table. Senator Tilman turns the concept of current events into a strategic battleground. I had the thought maybe we could turn this into a Stream of Consciousness or something? It's that what Virginia Woolf was so famous for perfecting?" Annabelle asks with a teasing smile. 

"The woman has a far greater legacy than generations of kids struggling through,  _ To the Lighthouse.  _ I accept your challenge, though, tell me about your music therapy and any gigs you have coming up." I encourage earnestly. 

***

"You look lovely tonight."

My clumsy attempt at compliment makes Annabelle blush modestly, but she does look amazing in the vintage dress and with her hair in a fancy twist. She uses chopsticks with eloquence and grace that puts my etiquette lessons to shame. A part of my distantly remembers that she is a world traveller from following her parents all around the world for various postings. I resolve to learn more about Annabelle Tilman away from the large file were handed at the beginning of the school year. I realise now that I did most of my students a disservice by believing them without a single challenge. 

"As do you, I love the scarf, is it new?"

"Leaves managed to destroy my last one, so it is a copy by the same designer at the local market. He wants his favourite scratching toy back, but we are reaching a compromise for the most part."

"Leaves?" Annabelle asks 

"My rescue kitten who will one day become my overlord and master of all he surveys. He even enjoys being a beach cat, complete with walks on the beach and the occasional game of shell chase.

"Does he resemble his namesake in either colouring or temperament. After the Whitman poem, I presume?"

I nod, feeling a light blush covering my cheeks. There is a reason I became an English teacher amongst all the opportunities available to me. One of the few things my father and found common ground on was the love of the spoken word, and one of my favourite memories was him reading to me from a giant book of poetry in the evenings. Rereading select works still brings back the time long before I was such a disappoint by either not being ambitious enough or being too thoroughly gay to settle down with a lovely young man like Michael and produce grandchildren. 

"Once a poetry geek always a poetry geek, If I acquire a few more strays, I will naturally include a tribute to Emily Dickinson or Edgar Allen Poe. One demanding kitten is enough at the moment. You are welcome to come out and visit him one day if you would like?" These words came out before I can think about it.

"I'll do that one day. My name comes from a distant relative rather than the epic love story of  _ Annabel Lee.  _ Don't you think great love stories put tremendous and unnaturally pressure on the subjects, especially the women in question?" Annabelle muses out loud. 

"Perhaps. You are a far better student and thinker than you give yourself credit for, please stop hiding behind the rebellious and angry rock chick. There are hundreds of those people in the world; you have great depth." it takes me a second to realise I sound like a teacher. 

"Ok ignore the lecture....shall we order dessert?" I say hurriedly. 

"I would have tried to be better for you Simone Bradly even if you were pushing 100 and happily married because you believe in every person that comes through that door. We can debate the role of woman in literature all night if you want."

***

"How is your aunt doing?"

"She loathes the idea of mandatory retirement and despises the changes at the school, but she likes the new rehab unit well enough. There are gardens and regular scripture sessions. She even smiled at one of my paintings the other day, which is progress. Aunt will never forgive me, but I am slowly learning that there are levels of forgiveness, and I need to recalibrate my expectations. She accepts my presence which is a start in the right direction." I offer with a shrug. 

"Have you heard from other members of your family?" Annabelle asks cautiously as she twirls a noodle. 

"Of course not. My family doesn't talk about black sheep or scandals. The closest they came was offering to buy back the beach house for my legal fund. I'll hear from them every few months or so waiting for me to 'come to my senses.' Your family were too harsh in their expectations I gave up long ago when I didn't meet their expectations." I confess with a shrug. 

"I am so sorry, Simone. You are keeping the beach house, aren't you? They aren't putting too much pressure you aren't they?" Annabelle asks with genuine concern 

"You have made that place into a sanctionary again rather than simply a shrine." I smile tenderly at her. 

The smile that Annabelle returns me is so genuine that I can't help but return the gesture. The sad thing is that no matter how well this date goes, my parents and wider family will not see past the beginning. They will judge this young woman for every one of her past deeds. As it was with Amanda, they will ignore every part of my existence that doesn't please them, and our interactions will become even more impersonal, mother won't care enough to get angry. Somehow indifferent denial makes things worse. 

"Have you put up some of your paintings on the wall? Does Leaves the kitten like to scamper on the deck? I bet the lighting is awesome for painting in the evening with fair to middling wine?" Annabelle teases lightly. 

"Come out with me again holiday weekend? I'll cook one of my non-meals for you." I offer suddenly feeling brave. 

"That sounds amazing."

***

Walking with Annabelle is one of my favourite things to do, even when we are going nowhere in particular.

The strange thing is we never run out of things to say to each other. A few of my judgement but well-meaning friends insist that there is no way a relationship with Annabelle can work. Some of them a brutally honest and say I am the last person on the planet to keep the attention of a wannabe rockstar with legions of groupies in the making. The age gap thing is the least of their concerns. On the one hand, I agree with their thoughts, but I fell for the young woman who appears in the quiet moments between the stardom. 

Right now, she is regaling me with a story about her latest show at a small community hall done as a favour to her friend. Annabelle is laughing because instead of doing rock covers or power ballads, she ends up singing lullabies to children because there is a mixup with the venture. She takes equal joy in all forms of performance. She doesn't mind that she sang about Mary and her lambs over and over again. 

"Can I come with you to the hospital one day? I am happy to read to the kids."

"I'm sure they will love that. I will talk to the shift supervisor." Annabelle agrees with a beaming smile. 

"Tell me about your favourite with Amanda," she asks, suddenly taking me by surprise. 

I rarely talk about Amanda with people never people I want to date; people are still so desperate uncomfortable with the idea of mental illness. The ability to speak about her without fearing the judgement or the pitty it means everything. Sometimes I worry that I will forget her or worse only remember the terrible times towards the end. 

"I think my favourite was from when we were younger with such big plans for the future. Amanda was so creative and gifted, and I was the boring one always insisting we need to get the assignments done on time. Amanda did not understand the concepts of time and space, particularly well, but she was so delightful in other ways." I start rambling nervously. 

"I'm glad she made you happy and that you were able to share time, don't let the bad memories drawn out the good." Annabelle holds my hand, squeezes softly. 

The date is a success not that I can take much credit for that. 

Slowly as the night evolves, we settle into a rhythm of talking about a wide range of topics, including both our work schedules. Annabelle's relationship with her parents is improving without her having to turn into a model of the perfect daughter. She is becoming increasingly passionate about her work as a music therapist and is a regular buddy for Collins in seasons with her psychiatrist. The younger student is healing well but still struggling to cope with her emotions and anxiety. Her grades are slowly improving again. 

"Do people like Kristen and Collens have an opinion on our relationship?" 

"You heard them at the trial most people knew we were developing a relationship, and it's not enough of a scandal to rate much attention in the long run. Remember we are talking about girls who are daughters of rockstars and revolutionaries. It takes allot to scandalise them truly. Nobody thinks any less of you as a teacher..."

"Your faith in me is kind Annabelle but a little nieve, I failed in my duty of care to all those girls irrespective of their support. Their graduation plans were put in danger because my grading is rightly in question."

"With no irregularities found."

"A technicality at best."

Annabelle puts me into a hug and starts rocking gently muttering words of comfort into my hair. 

***

"I want to take care of you."

Annabelle's soft words can do nothing but make me smile. If anybody in this relationship takes on the role of caretaker, it would be me. While the age gap between us isn't massive and my former student is astute for her age, nobody would accuse a senator's daughter intent on the rebellion of being a natural fit for being the committed partner. Part of me feels guilty that she feels the need even to mention such concerns, but I own a mirror and now that my long term exhaustion and lack of appetite won't disappear with a few tasty meals and nights without worry.

"I promise that the length of our relationship is an aberration in my regular life, Annabelle. Generally, I can take care of myself quite well, right down to yoga, running and weekly meal preparation. Please don't take too much on your shoulders I know from personal experience that such responsibility doesn't end well, besides this isn't a first date topic." I try to joke with a weak smile.

Annabelle reaches out and gently tugs me to a stop, without letting go of my hand, she reaches up and wipes a few stray tears away. I haven't even known I was crying until that moment. Part of me feels mortified at my inability to be reasonable under the circumstances of a first date. However, Annabelle has a gift for listening and understanding without judgement. It's the same reason that Collins admits to her years of self-harm and loneliness. There are few that now that this former wild child has a genuine and deep understanding for broken spirits and wounded souls. If I didn't think such a comparison would make her laugh, I would say she has the makings of an excellent counsellor. 

"Didn't Rumi say The wound is the place where the Light enters you.? I don't see you any differently for needing a little care. Annabelle asks softly pulling me gently to continue walking.

"Rumi was a wonderful man and a great poet, but there a Persia has many great poets. Many eloquent words are hinging on that one man." I reply with a gentle smile. 

"Ok this wasn't the point I was going for, but I promise to put together a reading list and learn some more names to add to my collection. You aren't any less beautiful if you need to cry." 

"Ok, maybe we can work towards caring for each other."

Naturally enough that proclamation sees me break down in tears and Annabelle pulls me into a hug her new perfume unfamiliar but pleasant. I do not feel the gut-wrenching sadness that haunts many nights. Tonight is merely a release of emotion and tension. My therapist will be pleased with this breakthrough. He scolds me gently for ignoring my feelings for far too long and letting pain fester without release. I feel safe in Annabelle's arms. 


	3. Rejoining Society

_ "We do not receive wisdom, we must discover it for ourselves, after a journey through the wilderness which no one else can make for us, which no one can spare us, for our wisdom is the point of view from which we come at last to regard the world. The lives that you admire, the attitudes that seem noble to you, have not been shaped by a paterfamilias or a schoolmaster, they have sprung from very different beginnings, having been influenced by evil or commonplace that prevailed round them. They represent a struggle and a victory."  _

_ ― Marcel Proust _

"Are you sure about this?" 

"I really don't think the 'and companion' applies to four legged varieties, so by default you qualify. Holly is liberal but human love affairs are her limit thus far." 

Annabelle studied her lover from the doorway as the older woman carefully applied makeup. In the months since they renewed their relationship, the younger woman has taken responsibility for Simone's care. Her lover does not look after herself as she should and is solitary enough to almost get away with the behaviour. Contrary to popular belief, living together has only reaffirmed Annabelle's commitment to this woman. Against the odds and opinions of many people, two people who are more similar than not are beginning to build a life together. Now that is almost twenty; it shouldn't be any more noteworthy than that. 

"You know what I mean, Simone" Annabelle chided gently "This is important and I don't want it to be ruined by…old issues" the words were a thin cover for some very painful attempts to reconcile the people in their lives. 

To Annabelle's family, Simone was a 'mentally unbalanced" gold digger. Unfortunately, they have enough plenty of experience with that kind of person, including a few ex-girlfriends. Senator Tilman extends legal support but cannot wholly endorse her daughter's choice. Strangely, through her involving a relationship with Simone, Anabelle realises she **wants** some level of connection with them. Constantly planning the role of the wild child has its drawbacks. There are a few aspects of her out a life that she genuinely misses. Plenty of therapy helps her realise that the constant level of childhood resent is not only a cliche but ultimately destructive for her wellbeing. 

To Simone's family, Annabelle was a 'morally devoid' sexual deviant. Of course, the Bradleys were never an example of family closeness. There is a reason that their child gets a beach house instead of much genuine communication from her parents. She is so loyal to the school and her aunt because they offered a sense of security and structure. Falling desperately in love with Amanda was not part of the plan, but it happens anyway, much like the situation with Annabelle. 

Neither side felt any hesitation in expressing their opinion at any given opportunity. Joined holiday ventures were not repeated. Simone may find the past difficult to death with, but she is no longer ashamed of Annabelle Tilman or their relationship. Her breach of teaching guidelines was appropriately and rightfully costly. Simone will always feel guilty for not resigning or transferring Annabelle. However, their relationship as a whole is one of the best things in her life. 

Simone curled her eyelashes once before turning and pulling Annabelle into the bathroom, cradling the singer against her in front of the mirror. Physical affection and casual touches are one of the things she missed the most during her self-imposed life as a hermit. Hugging Annabelle for no reason at all is one of her favourite activities. 

"I want you there, and Holly wants to meet and She has already spoken firmly to the rest of the family" Simone failed to add that she had never seriously considered going without Annabelle, regardless of the commentary. 

It was disconcerting to know how quickly Anna had become a mainstay that she actively needed. Rather than somebody she enjoyed being with, she had accepted loving Annabelle, but her ever-increasing reliance on the much younger woman was still causing her sleepless nights. The fact her new therapist refuses to condemn her actions or relationship with a younger woman is both reassuring and vaguely annoying. Selecting an LGBT friendly counsellor feels like an act of bravery in and of itself. 

Annabelle recognised the tortured thoughts Simone could still so easily. Forcing back a stab of hurt, she turned in their embrace at tried to lighten the mood. 

"Hey how bad can it be? Jessie loves me" she brought her hands up to trace Simone's face comfortingly, doing her best to ease the tension. 

"Jessie is desperately in love with you and thinks you are Janis Joplin reborn with better fashion sense" Simone frowning slightly at the memory of her youngest cousin's obvious feelings of awe. 

And the waiter's enthusiastic assertion that the two young people made a 'gorgeous couple.' The rational part of her mind knows that people will make similar mistakes; often, it is a feature of age-gap relationships. Besides, objectively her cousin and Annabelle would be lovely together. Simone blushed hotly. Rather vivid memories streamed through her mind. Almost instinctively her body responded. She should possibly add jealousy to her ever-growing list of sins. 

"You being possessive was worth it though" Anna grinned wickedly, a familiar glint in her eye. "I'm pretty sure my perception of restaurants and Elders Point is irrevocably altered." 

. 

"I should not have done that," she said ruefully, trying to ignore the inviting curve of Annabelle's neck. 

"It'll go fine today. We are not doing anything wrong. Besides they'll be focused on Holly and Matthew." Anabelle smiles broadly 

"I can do this" Simone agreed resolutely. 

Annabelle kissed her deeply, leaving little doubt of intent. Something is liberating about being with a woman again in an intimate way. There was nothing wrong with her previous male lovers or their relationships. The fundamental fact was that she denied herself and an essential part of her identity. Some of her friends gently tease about her having a young lover. 

"We don't have time. Anna" her graceful moments towards the bedroom and careful removal of the new jacket misrepresented the intent of the words. 

"I'll help you get dressed again," Annabelle promised dutifully trailing. 

"I don't think your brand of 'helping' will be particularly expedient" Simone commented dryly.

She accepted the offer anyway. Somethings were worth redoing your makeup for, making love to Annabelle with the sound of the ocean in the background is one of them. Her lover is true to her word and expertly rearranges everything into perfect order. How can one person disrupt her world so thoroughly but also put it back on its axis simultaneously? 

***

There is no great scandal in the important parts of the day. 

"Simone, I am so glad you came. It's been far too long." Holly is enthusiastic but is careful not to disrupt the people making final preparations. 

"I wouldn't have missed this for the world. It's about time you and Matt made things official." Simone replies with a beaming smile. 

Holly rather conspicuously pulls her into a hug before greeting Annabelle warmly. All know her cousin as warm, bright and giving. However, those who know her best recognise the determination and grit underneath. She was one of the first to reach out and defend Simone when the worst of the scandal broke. Simone refused to let anyone attend the trials or any mediation meetings or Holly would have been the first in line. 

"You must be Annabelle; it is great to officially meet you. The online version isn't quite the same. Don't like Simone drag you into the library and the poetry. There are people here you should meet." Holly makes the instructions firm and commanding. 

"Will do, congratulations on such a wonderful day. I wish you and Mathew all the happiness. The weather is on our side today. Let me know if there is anything I can do, pretty good at emergency event management." Annabelle confides with a beaming smile. 

It's Annabelle who can make the right social moves, drawing everyone into light conversations. Simone kept her gaze fixed on Annabelle. The younger woman was well used to formal occasions and was making a mockery of the tabloid headlines by behaving well within conventions. Annabelle is a Senator's daughter, and while she may resist the urge to act like a traditional political daughter, she knows how to play the role to perfection.

"I like her allot. Bring her to the next reunion, not that there will be too many of us, the thinning Bradley tree." is Holly's whispered comment before she circles to greet the other guests. 

Her aunt is sitting across the room in her wheelchair. The former Mother Immaculata is looking better with every passing month. The excuse to attend her niece's wedding is too good to pass up—people her are making an effort to engage and include her. There are ever a few children playing a game beside her chair. Simone smiles at the sight, even if their estrangement is still very much in effect. She will always love her aunt, irrespective of if those feelings mutual. 

_ "She is heartsick at the division between the two of you." Holly confides one day over lunch.  _

_ "I can't change the fundamental part of myself to please her, believe me, I have tried to do that for half my adulthood life. The fact I am embracing a relationship with Annabelle will only make the situation worse, beyond repair." _

_ "Maybe so, but you were her greatest joy, even when you were with Amanda, perhaps the stroke changes things." _

_ "I cannot maintain the one thing that makes her love conditional, even after the stroke. I wouldn't hold my breath for any happy family reunions." Simone warns with a sad smile.  _

Simone Bradley was once proudly an idealist, full of hope as both a student and a young adult. Even after Amanda's death, she did her best to instil idealism in her students and her art representations. However, Dickason forgot to mention one thing in her famous poem. Hope still flickers and dims, even when it stays. Her relationship with her aunt and their mutual approval is built on a lie; there it cannot remain.

***

"So, I see you completely disregarded my advice on every conceivable level." her aunt's speech is slow and slurred, but it is easy to understand after months of practice. 

"You know me better than perhaps anybody here, except for Holly. Whether you approved or disapproved, you knew how much I loved Amanda. Equally, you knew I wouldn't throw away the idea of teaching on a whim. I loved Annabelle then and rightly faced the consequences. We have no such obstacles now." Simone fixes a smile on her face because she doesn't want a spectacle at the wedding. 

"Miss Tilman is nothing like your Amanda. There couldn't be too more different people on earth." her aunt replies before shifting uncomfortably in her seat. 

"While what you say is true, Aunt, they are never a good or bad reality. I am lucky enough to find happiness and love with two people in my life. Nobody could ever replace Amanda nor did I look for somebody to chase away her ghost." Simone tries to keep her tone conversational. 

"That much is obvious, it's hard to miss that photo shine on your wall." Immaculata says with a hint of her old disapproval. 

Part of Simone wants to explain, talk about how Annabelle is redefining her life now. The photos on the wall are happy ones, that final letter no longer takes pride of place. Simone can talk about her first love without the overwhelming crush of guilt. Her aunt had a genuine fondness for Amanda when she was no more than a student and my best friend. Perhaps distantly such things will bring comfort to her. However, now is the time for light conversations and moments for reconciliation. 

"I am pleased to see you here, looking so well." I give her a polite kiss on the cheek before moving away. 

Holly's wedding is the only definite on the Bradley family calendar that Simone feels an obligation attend. It's unlikely that she will see her aunt or any other relative in a social setting for a while. Having a halfway civil conversation with one of them feels like a start. Truthfully, her scandal and decision to start a life with Annabelle is another sign of her eccentricity. The 'black sheep' is a literary convention, often in danger of overuse. Still, there is something civilised about inhabiting this identity at a big family convention. 

***

"What are you doing here?" 

Simone tried to maintain a neutral, friendly expression. The smile was painfully forced. Knowing her father was genuinely surprised by her presence hurt more than she thought it would. After all, it was the wedding of a cousin she was especially close to. She and Holly had practically been inseparable in their younger years and had maintained a firm friendship despite attending different colleges.

William C Bradley knew this well. Evidently, in his eyes, her transgressions outweighed decades of friendship. 

"Holly invited me Dad" Simone drew a deep breath, forcing her defensive posture. She found solace in remembering Annabelle's loving words and touches this morning. 

A line from a classic floated through her head. 

_ If this was the result, there was something to be said for sin _ .

"Is she here?" William asked harshly, barely keeping his tone civil. 

"Annabelle is here, Dad," Simone said evenly making a point to mention the name. 

The similarly featured Bradleys gazed across the expansive marque. The silence between them crackled with hostility. Simone cannot claim that they are truly facing estrangement per se because that implies a state change. There is no way that her parents could escape the scandal entirely, no matter how hard they try. However, they did not engage with Simone directly, during the trial and in the aftermath. 

"Whatever happened to that Asian, you were dating he seemed halfway decent." the small talk is jarring but almost entirely predictable and follows the family pattern. 

She had broken up with Brian Shiu 5 years ago. He always had had far more to recommend him than her racist father will ever understand. Brian was also openly bisexual and from a relatively conservative family. One of their strongest bonding points was trying to navigate the complexities of such positions without cutting the family roots. The two of them were better friends than lovers. The breakup was amicable for them, but less so for both families. Not that it was possible to discuss anything of substance. 

Her parents stopped speaking to her beyond Christmas and birthday cards. The deeds to the beach house had arrived in lawyer's envelope. Their daughter was largely an abstract construct, with little direct influence on daily life. 

She tensed nervously as her aunt approached Annabelle determinedly. Her aunt is getting better at her mobility restrictions. Before she could move to intervene, the two began to converse civility. Each refused to give anything away in either body language or facial expressions. 

Simone felt a surge of hope and pride as she saw the barest hint of a smile cross the Mother Superior's lips. The feelings almost drowned out the stage whispers about her morality and decency. The speculations were disrespectful and cruel but not particularly innovative. 

She was in a relationship with a woman. There were only so many epithets for gay in the English language. She was pursuing somebody much younger who happened to be a former student. There was only so scandalous tales that could be weaved without getting repetitive. Cross Dressing Uncle Albert owed her for permanently distracting the righteous family condemnation. Would it be overly disappointing for them to know Simone spent most nights reading poetry or listening to and commenting on Annabelle's new music? 

Or how Annabelle sang her through her nightmares over Amanda's death. 

"Its wrong" there was no particular venom just deep sadness. 

"You wouldn't understand Dad but she makes me happy and I love her" Simone countered praying it didn't let to the lecture she'd heard countless times. 

"You've started exhibiting. They look good. _Beach Scenes_ especially still using the Old Kodak I gave you?" William asked abruptly. 

"Yes," Simone said surprised, she'd only been exhibiting in tiny galleries without mainstream publicity. Did that mean her father had actively sort her out? 

William stood abruptly and moved away before she could ask him. 

Simone stepped to meet Annabelle on the dance floor. She smiled as the strains of a familiar song began to play. She smiled more at a beaming Holly before accepting Annabelle silent offer. People whispered and none were especially subtle about expressing such opinions in staged whispers. Simone doubts Mathew will be entirely grateful for the decision in his family. However, he loves Holly Bradley enough to ignore this minor upset on the day. Holly is one of her strongest defenders through this whole mess. 

"I needed you here" she confessed softly, she felt unexpectedly carefree saying it. 

"I know. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else" Annabelle replied with a beaming smile. 

Simone felt that smile quell her doubts like a balm, hiding away at the beach house has its merits. Re-joining society in such a public way is both brave and empowering, maybe she would be an official groupie at Anabelle's next gig. They danced on. Most became indifferent, distracted by the beautiful bride. The few who remained contemptuous became a featureless mass, no longer frightening. 

Perhaps this would all end as they claimed. In heartache and agony, If it did, Simone would happily do it all again. Before learning to live and love authentically, her life was incomparable; maybe all the pop psychologists have a point. Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson wrote their poetry to capture movements like this, connecting two people. 

At that moment, Simone believed any pain was worth the peace found by loving Annabelle. 


End file.
